Bury Them And Be Silent
by leftminds
Summary: Physical pain is one thing, but how does the human psyche fare under stresses of a different sort? A look at the world of torture, featuring Trowa and Duo. Inspired by the prompts 'sizzle', 'electricity', and 'scream'. One-shot. 2 3 if you squint.


A/N: This was written for the LJ community 'gwdark. I did some research on torture, and this is basically what came out. It's a bit experimental. Hope you enjoy it.  
Warnings: Heavy torture, imprisonment, violence, death. This is is not a pleasant fic.

[Trowa POV]

I have stopped asking myself why.

It is cold and dark, has been cold and dark for weeks, maybe months. Time no longer exists. I feel only the harsh chill of the manacles across my wrists, the course dark cloth of the bag over my head. Drops of liquid fall onto it, periodically, and I suck from it any moisture I can. No sounds but those. No light.

And then it comes, an explosion of light, stinging my eyes even through the cloth, a creak, a thump. Chains, rattling, somewhere to the side and above. Another creak, the heavy fall of boots on cement, a moan.

I am not sure my voice works, but I try, and it is raspy, raw from thirst and disuse. I manage only, "What...?"

A pull on my manacles, and I am lifted, standing, trying to stand. Hands wring around my neck and remove the hood. It's dim, but I can make out the walls, the heavy dark cement and steel, and to my left a body, hanging from the ceiling by bound wrists.

A braid. Duo. He is still and silent, hanging there.

The man who had brought him, I assume our imprisoner, stands to my side-- half restraining and half supporting me from falling under weakened legs as I inspect my cage. I am too tired, too hungry, too thirsty-- too damn confused to think of escape, any sort of rebellion. But I need to know. I thought the war was over.

"What... what do you want?"

The man shifts, and I do nothing, and the light leaves as quickly as it came.

--

I wake to a rough jerking on my wrists. One feels fractured, and I suspect a concussion from my last visitor. I am made to stand again, this time in front of Duo, who I can see this time is awake, is flinching. There is something wound around his mouth, metallic perhaps, but in the dim light I can't tell. His eyes are wide, body tense. Terrified. They inject him with something. After a few moments, his body goes limp, eyes glazed and blank.

One of the men places a wide shackle around my neck and connects it to the wall with a length of chain. It is all very impersonal, very orderly. The rest stand back, expressionless, awaiting orders. A voice, sudden and booming though a loudspeaker. I startle, and nearly choke myself with the chain.

"Prisoner number E3070 will commence procedure 4272 on prisoner number D2905. Med staff must be on call. Dying is not permitted."

It made no sense. Nothing made any sense. My thoughts are rushing, tangled, disjointed. What is this? Procedure 4272?  
_  
Dying is not permitted_?

I try to remain blank-faced as the men file out, one leaving next to me what looked like a shock rod.

"Prisoner E3070."

The loudspeaker again. I focus on a black panel, window-like, just below the ceiling. 2-way glass. They are watching me. Us.

"03."

I can only stare at the dark, reflective pane.

"Pick up the taze rod," it orders. I fumble for it before grabbing the rubberized handle. A long stick with a spherical cap at the end, from which tiny flicks of electricity quiver. I know this. It's a brutal device.

"On our command, you will use the rod to deliver electricty to the body of Prisoner D2905."

I let the rod drop from my fingers and glance over at Duo, hanging unresponsive from his chains. Eyes still open, staring into nothing. They want me to stun him?

_To what end?  
_  
"If Prisoner E3070 refuses to comply, far more severe measures will be taken."

A moment passes, and I hear it before feel it-- the chains rattle and spark. And then I am dying, my brain is melting, my heart has stopped. The pain is excruciating. ... And then it is over. A second of respite.

It begins again, again and worse, and doesn't stop. I stifle a scream and grab the taze rod, and I press it into Duo's stomach. His body jerks, almost convulses, wheezes, and in the light of the electricity I can see that it is in fact metal pressed around his mouth. Barbed wire. Razor wire. That the entire area is saturated with blood.

The pain stops. I withdraw the rod. Duo's eyes are wide and alive now, staring at me, staring at the rod. He is nothing but fear, a mass of fear and hatred.

"And again," says the loudspeaker. "We will tell you when to stop."

I hesitate now only for a moment, and I understand what must be done. I jab the rod at him again.

After a few seconds, the sizzle of cloth and skin burning is the only sound I can hear above Duo's strangled screaming. Blood drops down to the cement from where the wire cut into his lips and jaw. So much screaming.

I have never in my life heard so much screaming.

It is too much.

"You may now remove the electricity from Prisoner D2907," the loudspeaker drones. A bored female voice.  
_  
Dying is not permitted._

Too much punishment, too much cruelty, too much pain.

I don't release the stun rod. I watch Duo's body convulse, I watch him scream and scream and scream until his voice runs out, until foam builds up around his mutilated mouth, I watch his skin sizzle and blacken, I watch his eyes roll back, I watch as the stress of the electrocution fries his brain, his heart, his life. I watch as his body stops twitching and goes still. I watch Duo die.

I drop the taze rod, fall to my knees. The smell of burning flesh is everywhere.

So much screaming.


End file.
